(via heyauria)
“No one has ever become poor by giving.”—
Anne Frank,
diary of Anne Frank (via coral)
(via abominable-love)
“We must remember that our loving people does not mean they owe us love back.”— Donna-Marie Riley (via five–a–day)
“They kept asking me, ‘What does the poem mean? What does the poem mean?’ And it was frustrating me because poems don’t mean. They suggest. They enact. They provoke.”— Richard Siken (via egracely)
“We get caught in the middle of a rainstorm, which is how every romance either begins or ends. I speak your name like it’s my native language. We fishtail braid our bodies together. Sometimes I leave my tongue inside you. Sometimes the anger takes claim of my being and starts slamming doors and silent-treating you or yelling about your ex-girlfriend. It’s soft and then it’s a little bit harder. It’s easy and then I get uncomfortable when you kiss my shoulder. You play possum when you hear my key in the door. We get bored of each other. We get un-bored. I hate you and then you wear socks to bed. I hate you and then I’m desperate to touch you. I stop you halfway down the stairs, hook myself around your waist, rock ever so slowly until we’re happy again. Until there is laughter again. It should be like this. Laughter. Forget serious looks, forget my wannabe sexy sashay out of my blue jeans. Smile with all your teeth. All your crooked, beautiful teeth. Keep smiling. Except for when you really can’t summon the energy. Then you can wear your grumpy face and I’ll make you scrambled eggs with milk. I know it’s your comfort food. I know your mother makes it better. It’s okay, I won’t get upset about it. I’ll call her up and tell her she raised you extraordinary. Tell her I’ve sent a bouquet of lilies to her house, addressed to the C-section scar that got you here. I do strange things like this and it bothers you sometimes. You stop inviting me out with your friends. You apologize for my behaviour at parties. Take me home early. Feel ashamed of yourself when I cry in the bathroom. Play a Jack Johnson CD ‘til I come out puffy-eyed and childlike. Hug me bear-tight. Stroke my hair for half an hour. It’s okay. It’s okay that I slam doors sometimes. It’s okay that we get bored. It’s okay that you get embarrassed of me. I’m still going to touch you lightning hot. We’re still going to make the same bad jokes. You’re learning to say sorry without making excuses. Sure, I love you. Sure, it gets hard. And then it gets softer. Then there’s your mouth at my nape again. Then my skin melts at the splash of your tongue. Oh, is it raining? Only we make the choice. We begin. We begin. We begin.”— Donna-Marie Riley (via five–a–day)
“But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.”— Pablo Neruda, from “Your Feet”
you ever see someone so fine you completely ignore them?
I have to bc I’m ugly
(via gryffindors-keeper)
